


The Haunting of Warlock Dowling

by White Queen Writes (fhartz91)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Ineffable Lovers, sweet little Warlock just wants to find a ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27223132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/White%20Queen%20Writes
Summary: Warlock Dowling thinks his house is haunted. So he investigates, using a digital recorder to try and capture an EVP. He manages to record something he thinks might be one.Nanny, however, strongly disagrees.
Relationships: Nanny Ashtoreth/Brother Francis (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 75
Collections: Trick-Or-Treat!





	The Haunting of Warlock Dowling

**Author's Note:**

> Just a random re-write for Halloween :) Spooky level 0. Not really spooky at all.

“Nanny! Nanny! Wake up! I have something I need to show you!” Warlock races full tilt down the hall, sliding across the polished wood floor in socked feet while imagining that he's James Bond, escaping the clutches of rogue agents by snowboarding down the Alps amid a hail of gunfire. 

He throws open the door to Nanny Ashtoreth's room and flies onto her bed, climbing up her lumpy mattress to find her already awake and scrambling to put on her dark glasses.

“Warlock!” she snaps in surprise. “What have I told you about running in the house? _And_ barging in without knocking?”

“I’m sorry, Nanny! But I had to come tell you straight away! I got one! I really got one!”

“Got one what, my little love?” Ashtoreth asks, intrigued. The last time Warlock said those words, he came bounding into the kitchen, covered in head-to-toe mud, and carrying something Nanny Ashtoreth could only describe as furry, squeaky, and highly annoyed.

Luckily, it wasn’t rabid.

Nanny wasn't too thrilled about getting her gown filthy, but the reaction of Warlock’s mother to the wretched beast made the whole encounter much more delightful.

“An EVP!” he announces proudly, holding up the digital recorder he’d gotten on his last birthday. “I was right! I told you! Our house _is_ haunted!”

“Are you certain?” Ashtoreth asks, a concerned look on her angular face.

Warlock beams with confidence as he shakes the recorder inches from her nose. “Oh, absolutely! I listened to it _five times_! It’s definitely an EVP! It sounds exactly like the ones I heard on YouTube!”

“Now, Warlock - what did I say about watching videos on YouTube without my express permission?”

“Sorry, Nanny.” Warlock deflates, his excitement considerably dulled. “But I had to! I needed help gathering evidence! Everything I know about ghost hunting, I learned from the Paranormal Plumbers!”

“With a name like that, I'll bet they’re American, aren’t they?” Nanny grumbles, struggling to sit up straighter on the bed. “Why again, is it, that you believe this house is haunted? As far as I know, no one has ever died here.” 

Nanny, in fact, knows that for sure. If there was a troublesome ghost lurking about, she would have dispatched it straight away. She doesn’t need anyone or anything interfering with her raising the Antichrist … the gardener, Brother Francis, notwithstanding.

Nope. This house is neutral - supernaturally speaking.

“I told you before, Nanny,” Warlock begins with a shake of his head. Why is it that adults never seem to remember the important stuff after he tells them half a dozen times? He’ll never understand. Aren’t they supposed to be smarter than him? Isn't that why they're in charge? “A few weeks ago, I heard moaning after everyone was asleep. It sounded like a soul in pain. Horrible pain! Like they were being tortured! Their eyes torn out of their skull and their intestines …”

Nanny puts up a hand to shush him. “Okay, okay. I get the gist.” Normally, she would love to sit and listen to him ramble on about the grotesque goings-on inside his tiny brain. But there are other, more pressing matters at hand. Warlock needs to be ready for school in an hour. And Nanny Ashtoreth needs to check in with the head office.

They need to move things along. 

“Anything else?” she asks.

“I saw a large, shadowy figure walk past my room late at night. The floorboards creak and the lights flicker on and off when they shouldn’t …” Warlock pauses, but when Nanny doesn't invite him to continue, he sighs. As much as he's trying to get Nanny excited about his discovery, her face remains blank.

She looks uncomfortable. 

He had hoped his nanny would be eager to examine his evidence. But she’s just sitting there, on her lumpy mattress, with the covers wrapped around her, looking anxious. 

Like she’d rather be anywhere else. 

“You don’t believe me,” he says grumpily. 

“I didn’t say that,” Ashtoreth says, shifting her weight away from the lumpiest of the mattress lumps. “I’m simply trying to digest all that you’ve told me. It’s a lot to think about, my dear.”

Warlock nods glumly, his eyes dropping to his nanny’s tartan quilt. He’s never seen this quilt on her bed before. It’s lumpy, too. In that way, it matches her mattress perfectly. Warlock starts poking at one particularly squishy lump, his once shiny smile well and truly tarnished.

“Here …” She grabs the boy under his arms and lifts him onto her lap. “Why don’t we listen to your recording, and I’ll tell you what I hear?”

His grin returns times one thousand. "Okay!" he says and presses play. They both sit stone still and listen. 

_With any luck, he recorded himself snoring,_ Nanny thinks. _Or talking in his sleep._ Something that would be easy to explain in a way that would neither frighten nor disappoint an inquisitive eight-year-old. The last thing Nanny wants to do is discourage him.

But if Warlock _did_ find evidence of some long-dead ghost who’s been popping by after hours, she’ll need to get herself a summoning circle.

Because someone has some explaining to do.

According to the counter on the recorder’s display, whatever Warlock heard starts at over two hours in. Warlock goes to bed at 8, so that would make this around 10 something. Nanny would have still been up, but she doesn’t recall hearing anything out of the ordinary at that hour.

The loudest noise in the room (per the recording) is the inhale-exhale of Warlock sleeping, and it makes Nanny smile. But not long after, another noise starts. It’s muffled, intermittent. To the untrained ear (and through several walls and closed doors) it does sound very ominous, like the notes of a sustained and painful cry rising up from the depths of Hell.

But to someone who knows exactly what they’re listening to, it’s clear as crystal. Nanny’s eyes grow wide behind her glasses, and she grabs the recorder out of Warlock's grasp.

“Uh ... that’s enough for now, Warlock, dear,” Ashtoreth says, turning it off.

“So what do you think, Nanny? Do you think I caught a ghost?”

“You caught something, alright,” Nanny mumbles. She stares at the recorder, unsure of what to do. "You know what, my love?” she says, helping Warlock off the bed and onto the floor. “Let me get up and get dressed. I would like to bring this to Brother Francis to have a listen.”

“You’re not going to erase it, are you?” Warlock gasps, worry scrunching his nose, creasing his brow.

“I won't,” Nanny promises. “I just want his opinion on the subject. You trust Brother Francis, don’t you?”

“I do, Nanny,” Warlock replies.

“Good. Then off you go. Get ready for school. I’ll be along in a moment.”

“Yes, Nanny.” Warlock rolls up onto his tiptoes to give Nanny a peck on the cheek, then hurries away, walking at a much safer pace back to his bedroom.

Nanny Ashtoreth waits until she hears Warlock shut his door. Then she rewinds the recording and presses play.

It’s not the moan of some faceless spectre haunting their halls.

It’s Brother Francis, moaning in the farthest thing from pain.

Ashtoreth kicks at the lump wedged between her legs beneath her blanket. “You daft angel!” The lump wails in agony, shimmying out from underneath, rubbing a sore spot on his belly. “You need to be more careful sneaking in here! And lock the bloody door next time! We're both lucky I still had my nightgown on! We'd've been sacked for sure!”

“I know, my dear. I know." Francis snaps his fingers, locking the door - too little too late seeing as they won't be going back to what they were doing moments ago. "But sometimes I forget. I just can’t help myself where you’re concerned."

"That's quite understandable," Ashtoreth says, breathing in deep, trying her hardest to quell what had almost been an earth-shattering start to her day. 

"Young Master Warlock has some sharp knees," Brother Francis remarks, massaging the back of his neck as he watches Nanny Ashtoreth climb out of bed and get her uniform for the day assembled. "What are you going to do about the recording? You promised not to erase it. And you can't go back on yer promise. You'd break his heart."

"I know, I know ..." She had toyed with the idea of making the moans sound more like Mr. And Mrs. Dowling, but she can’t remember the last time those two were intimate. “I’m just going to make it sound like a genuine ghost,” she says, snapping her fingers. “It'll be easier to explain. And a lot less traumatizing.”


End file.
